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Wednesday, 16 May 2018

“I used to think truth was eternal, that once I knew, once I saw, it would be with me forever, a constant by which everything else could be measured. I know now that this isn't so, that most truths are inherently unretainable, that we have to work hard all our lives to remember the most basic things. Society is no help. It tells us again and again that we can most be ourselves by acting and looking like someone else...”

Tuesday, 15 May 2018

“Being an artist,” says Mamma Andersson, ”is to go around in circles in
different directions. You always go back to start like in a game of
Monopoly.” It is a professional development that is akin to personal
growth, a constant coming back to core issues to understand yourself.”
For Mamma Andersson, this means always returning to painting and images:
“It's through painting that I reach a psychological or political
level.”

Sunday, 13 May 2018

Blogging, that
much-maligned pastime, is gradually but surely disappearing from the
Internet, and so, consequently, is a lot of online freedom and fun ...
Blogs are necessarily idiosyncratic, entirely about sensibility: they
can only be run by workhorses who are creative enough to amuse
themselves and distinct enough to hook an audience ... who work more on
the principle of personal obsession than pay.

Tuesday, 31 October 2017

Our ignorance is their power so take every opportunity to make the connection with those around you, listen and learn.
Connections create community.
Community helps understanding.
Understanding fuels empathy.
Empathy facilitates change.

The Family, the cosmic, transcends our realms of humanity.
Your mother
father
sister
brother
stranger
lover
friend
and enemy
The birds
The bees
The flowers
The trees
All interstellar entities
Everything that lives and breathes
We are all family.

Friday, 20 October 2017

Barcelona-based director Gerard Montero talks about Empty, a film he made with choreographer Paloma Muñoz:

"The
film explores ideas around dance and the significance we place on
movement, which can't always be easily explained. In this empty space of
the swimming pool we explored the poetic potential of the body’s
movement and how a place can effect how we shape it.

“My goal is simple. It is complete understanding of the universe, why it is as it is and why it exists at all.”
—Stephen Hawking, 1981

Stephen Hawking opens his new book with a
marvelous old anecdote. A famous astronomer, after a lecture, was told
by an elderly lady, who was perhaps under the influence of Hinduism,
that his cosmology was all wrong. The world, she said, rests on the back
of a giant tortoise. When the astronomer asked what the tortoise stands
on, she replied: “You’re very clever, young man, very clever. But it’s
turtles all the way down.”

Most people, Hawking writes,
would find this cosmology ridiculous, but if we take the turtles as
symbols of more and more fundamental laws, the tower is not so absurd.
There are two ways to view it. Either a single turtle is at the bottom,
standing on nothing, or it’s turtles all the way down. Both views are
held by leading physicists. David Bohm and Freeman Dyson, to mention
two, favor the infinite regress—wheels within wheels, boxes inside
boxes, but never a final box.1 Hawking is on the other side. He believes that physics is finally closing in on the ultimate turtle.

Tuesday, 12 September 2017

“An Eskimo [Inuit] custom offers an angry person release by walking the
emotion out of his or her system in a straight line across the
landscape; the point at which the anger is conquered is marked with a
stick, bearing witness to the strength or length of the rage.”

"Desire lines, also known as cow paths, pirate paths, social trails,
kemonomichi (beast trails), chemins de l’âne (donkey paths), and
Olifantenpad (elephant trails), can be found all over the city and all
over the world, scarring pristine lawns and worming through forest
undergrowth. They appear anywhere people want to walk, where no formal
paths have been provided. (Sometimes they even appear despite the
existence of formal paths, out of what seems to be sheer mulishness—or,
perhaps, cowishness.) Some view them as evidence of pedestrians’
inability or unwillingness to do what they’re told; in the words of one academic journal, they “record collective disobedience.”

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What sort of diary should I like mine to be? Something loose-knit and yet not slovenly, so elastic that it will embrace anything, solemn, slight or beautiful, that comes into my mind. I should like it to resemble some deep old desk or capacious hold-all, in which one flings a mass of odds and ends without looking them through. I should like to come back, after a year or two, and find that the collection had sorted itself and refined itself and coalesced, as such deposits so mysteriously do, into a mould, transparent enough to reflect the light of our life, and yet steady, tranquil compounds with the aloofness of a work of art. The main requisite, I think, on reading my old volumes, is not to play the part of a censor, but to write as the mood comes or of anything whatever; since I was curious to find how I went for things put in haphazard, and found the significance to lie where I never saw it at the time.

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*Please note: this blog contains no sponsored links, and free goods or services will always be politely declined. However, I do like to hear about new artists, books, bands, products and shops, so feel free to send along an email if you like. Reader emails and comments are always welcome.